


The Vongola Pack

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Series: Pack'verse [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alpha Enrico (Reborn!), Alpha to Omega Transition, Alpha/Omega Traits as the Earthborn's Legacy, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Cute Moments with the Kits, Dubious Consent - 'Fuck and Breed Him or I Kill Him', Fresh Targets as Expressions of Affection, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Bel & Xanxus, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Dino/Squalo/Xanxus, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Enrico/Guido, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Hayato & Shamal, Implied/Referenced Relationship(s): Squalo/Xanxus, M/M, Minor Outbreak of Magic Healing Cock, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Xanxus (Reborn!), Over-Elaborate Worldbuilding, POV Enrico (Reborn!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: “Papa -““He’s just a little street rat, Enrico, and he planned a coup. He killed Sawada as part of the preparations.” He swallows, eyes flicking from his father to Xanxus, who was on his knees, clearly expecting to die and he makes an impulsive decision. (Sawada has been making his Flames itch for the past half-decade.)“I don’t have an omega, Papa.” Xanxus makes a sound that’s halfway between confusion and panic. “And he’s clearly got Vongola blood, even if he’s not yours -“ he leaves his father to fill in the gaps in what he’s suggesting. (His father had lamented his mother’s refusal to allow him to make Sawada his omega.)
Relationships: Enrico/Xanxus (Reborn!)
Series: Pack'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082441
Comments: 39
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

“Papa -“

“He’s just a little street rat, Enrico, and he planned a _coup_. He killed Sawada as part of the preparations.” He swallows, eyes flicking from his father to Xanxus, who was on his knees, clearly expecting to die and he makes an impulsive decision. (Sawada has been making his Flames itch for the past half-decade.)

“I don’t have an omega, Papa.” Xanxus makes a sound that’s halfway between confusion and panic. “And he’s clearly got Vongola blood, even if he’s not _yours_ -“ he leaves his father to fill in the gaps in what he’s suggesting. (His father had lamented his mother’s refusal to allow him to make Sawada his omega.)

“How does that sound, brat? It was what you were likely born for, anyway.” He wraps his Flames around the kneeling teen - trying mostly for reassurance, but his own temptation bleeds over; he’d had his doubts that Xanxus was his father’s son, but he’d determinedly suppressed any interest that had tried to emerge as the Wrath had hit puberty. But right now he needed to fan the spark that illicit interest represented; he needed to convince his father that he actually wanted to fuck his baby brother rather than just doing it to save Xanxus from being murdered for trying to keep the Family strong. "You should consider yourself lucky my son is interested in putting you to a proper use.”

* * *

“The process is complicated, especially if you want to avoid breaking him.” Shamal’s expression makes his lips quirk for the first time since he carried his unconscious baby brother back to his suite and had sealed the door against his father. “At its core, it’s an evolutionary response: in the absence of an omega, the pack treat the weakest of the alphas as one, and their body adapts, eventually becoming capable of producing kits.”

“But it can be done?”

“You’re going to hurt him, but it shouldn’t _break_ him. Are you sure you’re not willing to ask your brothers to help? You can’t leave his body alone until it starts to produce slick, and even then you can’t leave him uncovered until he drops into his first Heat, if you want to meet your father’s deadlines.” Shamal bites his lip. “Does he have any bonded Guardians? They’re going to Rage when they feel what you’re doing to their Sky unless they’re, uh, occupied, too.”

“Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that. I know the mini Superbi is Xan’s like Guido is mine - I don’t think he’s picked up any other bonds, though.” Shamal hums, a thoughtful, mildly chaotic sound that makes him twitch.

“Guido’s going to enjoy the next few days then; Squalo’s a pretty little tidbit that should make a very lovely omega for him to enjoy.” He whines at the back of his throat, imagining his baby brother’s sylph-like swordsman under his Cloud, squealing as an alpha's barbs raked over his prostate and then shrieking as Guido’s knot inflated and he’s pumped full of cum. (He and Guido were _very_ careful about alternating who topped, to avoid an accidental transition.) “And given how hard the little tiger cub in your bed has been using him since he caught him, a second alpha’s cum should be all he needs to tip him over the edge.”

A mosquito whines at the edge of his hearing, and Shamal raises an eyebrow at him, interrogatively. He makes a face.

“You’re clearly nervous about bitching your baby brother; I can tip you into a rut and then you won’t care about anything other than mounting the ‘omega’ in your bedroom.” His Flames flare before he even realises how angry Shamal’s suggestion has made him, and the Mist makes an eep sound before flashing away to hide under his own Sky. Hopefully, the idiot would consider what he’d just suggested and reconsider being such a prick before he had to see him again.

“'Rico?” Guido sticks his head around the door, and he takes a deep breath. “Bad news, or was Shamal just being an ass?”

“Both. Neither of the methods that will speed up the process are something I’m willing to do to Xan, and Shamal thought that triggering my rut would be a _helpful_ suggestion. He’s lucky I didn’t punt him through a wall.” His Cloud chuckles and crosses the room to steal a kiss; he shoves his best friend and lover back into the wall and kisses him hard, making Guido moan. “You’re going to need to be on guard for Xan’s little Superbi making a nuisance of himself.”

“Joy. I’m guessing the old bastard set his deadline based on one of the unpleasant methods, so we can’t even summon the brat for a discussion about what we’re going to do to his Sky and why.” He ruts against his Cloud’s thigh, and Guido chuckles. “Go put that to its proper use, and I’ll try not to get myself skewered taming Xan’s little Rain Cloud.” He shivers. “Enrico, I’ve fucked you into the mattress when all you’ve wanted is to rut on your little brother. Try and enjoy keeping him alive, Amante.”

* * *

He pants and shoves into his baby brother one more time, collapsing on top of the teen; he’d roll off, but his knot is wedged firmly in place, and he likes having Xanxus under him where he’s calm and safe. (He’ll have to find them somewhere else to nest before Xanxus gives him a kit; he’ll never be able to get enough kits on his baby brother to keep him alive if he can’t get him to allow the first out of his sight.) Xanxus wriggles, Flames uncurling from whatever his father had done to contain them, and he growls, nipping at the back of his baby brother’s neck and _pressing_ with his Flames until the teen goes limp underneath him.

“’Rico?” The sheath around his clock clenches, the barbs on his cock digging into soft walls in a way that _has_ to hurt. “Ow - what the hell?”

“You screwed up, Xan, and I took the only option that involved you _living_. Now stay still; you managed to coax my barbs out as _well_ as my knot, and while some of this process _has_ to hurt, I have no desire to rip you open, brat.”

“Fucking _hurts_. Why would my shark-trash -”

“It hurts because you’ve woken up six hours into me trying to crash trigger your transition to save your life, brat.” Xanxus twitches and he kisses the back of his baby brother’s neck, thrusting gently; he thinks Xan’s finally starting to slicken in self-defence. “And, well, I’m hoping you use lube when you’re fucking him; that’ll have made him more eager to be fucked. I couldn’t use it if I wanted this to work fast.”

“Papa -” he presses his Sky on Xan again and keeps pressing until his baby brother’s limp and purring.

“He was going to kill you. But I was halfway through planning to kill Sawada _myself_ , so I played on his thwarted wishes, brat, as I didn’t think you deserved to die for beating me to committing murder.” Xanxus makes a sound that’s probably a giggle. “And well, I checked when you hit puberty and my libido started insisting you’d make a lovely omega -” he rolls his hips as his knot subsides; there was no getting his barbs to retract. Xanxus yelps, but doesn’t struggle, and he rewards him with another thrust. “- I couldn’t be a hundred-per-cent sure, and you were supposed to be my baby brother, so I just sublimated. Turns out I didn’t need to; you’re going to make me a marvellous Donna, Xan.”

His omega - because Xanxus is going to be his omega, his cock’s sheath and the mother of his kits - starts, and tries to struggle out from underneath him, but he sets his teeth in the back of the brat’s neck and pours yet more of his Flames into him until the boy goes limp. “Shark’s going to get himself and my kit killed -” the words are strangled and angry, and he releases his bite, lapping at the wound in apology, a little confused by Xanxus’s words.

“Guido’s waiting to intercept Squalo, Xan. The worst that’s going to happen to him is he gets mounted in the main foyer if he’s being an ass. But I didn’t realise that you _had_ a kit -” his baby brother hadn’t presented for long enough to have sired a kit on a beta.

“M’storm. He’s seven.” He rewards his omega with another gentle lap at the bite-wound in the back of his neck. “Cutest little murder baby. Makes me feel all protective.” He chuckles and tries another rock of his hips, and Xanxus shivers, and oh, there was the proper response. Finally. He could feel the difference; that wasn’t cum or blood, but proper _slick_. Had that been all Xanxus needed? Acknowledgement he’d had the underlying nature already? Most Skies won’t even consider a Guardian that much younger than them.

“I’m sure he’ll make my kits a very protective older brother, Xan.” He leans into his own Will and snaps his hips, less concerned about potential damage. Omegas were like cats; induced ovulators that needed sustained stimulation to be fertile. They also healed _fast_ from the rake of an alpha’s barbs. He can feel his rut creeping up on him, the sweet smell of an omega acting as a goad and he whines softly.

“’Rico?” His baby brother sounds confused and aroused and needy, and he snaps his hips again.

“Rut’s sneaking up on me, Xan. I need you to choose -” Xanxus’s slick, hot hole attempts to strangle his cock, and he takes the hint. And the compliment; he’d have to figure out how to make his baby brother use his words, but he’d take the physical version for now. “- okay, okay, sweetheart. I’ll rut on you and fill you full of as many kits as I can. We’ll discuss founding a proper Pack on you later when we’ve made sure you’re as safe as we can make you.” His omega makes a grumpy sound at the idea of being ‘kept’ safe, but the snap of his hips cuts it off, and he gives himself over to his rut.

He vaguely remembers flashes of the next twenty-four hours; he’d thought the bar-talk about omega-pussy were overblown, but fuck, Xanxus’s makes those rumours feel understated and his baby brother is taking to his new role so very, very well. The sounds he’s making; Dio mio he was going to be edging rut every time his omega made any sort of tiny delighted sound after this.

He surfaces briefly for the irate flares of Rain-Cloud flames and the sharp squeal as his Cloud takes his baby brother’s senior Guardian in hand. He thinks he feels Mist Flames entrancing an infant Storm Flame, too, which is probably the best solution to the problem. (Despite his annoyance with Shamal, he’s also aware the Mist has a Stormy-kit in the same age bracket he’s adopted.) He certainly wouldn’t want a seven-year-old to walk in on this.

Xanxus’s slick, tight hole drags him back down into rut-space again; it consists entirely of the feel of his baby brother’s body under him and around him and their Flames. (Xanxus’s Wrath had settled into his so sweetly, elbowing Guido’s overprotective Cloud aside and claiming his Storm slot in an unexpected manoeuvre that has him purring. He likes it, though; it means he’s always going to be sure of his omega’s needs and wants.)

* * *

He wakes from a nap on top of his pretty omega and panics slightly; Xanxus’s skin is burning hot, and he flares his Flames, demanding Shamal’s attention. (His brother’s Mist had offered the leash in case something went wrong.) The Mist takes a moment to appear, and he almost laughs; Shamal’s clearly been actively entertaining his omega’s adopted kit. The normally impeccably presented medic looked _ruffled_. “Belphegor is a tiny blond menace, and I want to see what Hayato thinks of him.”

“… I’m assuming that’s the name of Xanxus’s kit.” Shamal gives him a look like he’s an idiot. “Shamal, he’s been holed up with his Rain-Cloud in the Varia for the last six months. He didn’t tell _anyone_ he’d found a Storm.” He makes a face. “And Xan is burning up. Can you check everything’s okay?”

“Roll off him, Enrico. I need to see what state his breeding hole is in. Some fever is normal in a newly presented omega, but.” He whines as he shifts off his _very_ comfy omega, leaving Xanxus exposed; Shamal’s examination is quick, thorough and impersonal, though the internal exam makes him want to snarl. “Done. Pull him gently back onto your cock; it’s a normal pre-Heat fever. Given you did such a nice job of inducing ovulation, it’ll be a fertile Heat, too; he’s going to wake up horny as fuck rather than raw and sore the way an alpha would after your rut.” He tugs Xan onto his side and back onto his cock, burying his nose in his shaggy mane. Shamal hesitates rather than vanishing. “I need your permission to medicate his kit, Boss. The kit’s got serious issues and I can teach Xanxus to manage it with his Flames, but that’s going to take weeks and he needs something _now_ -” He makes a face.

“Could a Rain keep him calm?”

“… one like the one you and Guido were hunting could, Boss. Squalo’s a bit too ‘death is peaceful’ to manage it right now, given the issue; he’ll push him into a full-blown spree.”

“Then give him the minimum possible. Overdo it and I tie you up for Xanxus to chastise, Shamal.” The Mist pulls a face and he shakes his head, amused, as the man vanishes. Fede really did need to just pin Shamal down and give him kits; the man was three-quarters there already. His omega stirs, and he shushes him gently. “Try and get a little more sleep, Xan. Your heat’s starting, but you’re not ready for more than being my cockwarmer at this point.” His baby brother mumbles something, and he snorts in response before lapping at the new scar on the back of his omega’s neck. “Guido has Squalo in hand and your shark is thoroughly enjoying himself. And your kit is in good hands. Shamal’s an ass, but he has an adopted kit of his own that we’re going to have to kidnap for him when you’re ready to be out in public again.”

* * *

His cock’s finally willing to stay soft, and he stands up on shaky legs - he and Xanxus were both going to need food and hydration, asap - and swallows, as he gets a proper look at the state his baby brother is in. Xanxus’s legs are spread, and what had been a tight little pucker looked _ruined_. Or rather it looked like what it was: a well-used omega’s pussy. One that had clearly taken a lot of alpha cock and _liked_ it. His cock twitches and he whines at the back of his throat; they _both_ needed a break before yet another round, especially since he’d gotten his baby brother successfully all the way from alpha to bred-omega in one go, without more than snatched naps and the water Shamal had ’ported in.

He pulls on his dressing gown and ties it tight - his cock actually _hurts_ , and every muscle he has aches - and ventures out into his suite's antechamber to find both of his brothers waiting to ambush him. He ignores them for a moment, desperately wanting a cup of the coffee he can smell, and they let him pour a cup and take the first heavenly sip. "What happened, 'Rico? Shamal wouldn't tell me other than it was Papa's fault, and we needed to stay close so that we could help ..."


	2. Chapter 2

“Xan?” His baby brother - currently sulking about his new role - mumbles something rude into his pillow, and he sighs and resigns himself to leaving his new omega to mope just a little bit longer. A flare of intertwined Mist and Storm Flames in the temporary nursery he’d set up (like hell he was going to put _his_ kits in the formal nursery wing; the Don controlled access to it) remind him of something he’d been meaning to do, and Xanxus by his side would make it do-able rather than a daydream. “Wanna help me intimidate the nouveau-riche Don holding Shamal’s kits hostage into releasing them?”

“Pervert-Mist has _kits_?”

“Two of them. One legally his, one we’d have to kidnap.” His lips quirk as his pretty omega rolls over (he ignores the hiss as Xanxus’s sore hole makes contact with the bedding; if he didn’t, he’d spread his baby brother’s legs and sink back into the luscious sheath that was all _his_ ) and looks genuinely interested. “The idiot won’t even let Shamal _visit_ them right now. But you and I can _take_ them, Xanxus. You’re the senior consort in the Alliance now, which makes all of its kits yours to watch over.” Xanxus raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “They’re both active - at four and seven - and he’s keeping Shamal away. The likelihood of one of us not murdering him for cause this afternoon is _maybe_ one-in-four. If I’m feeling generous.”

Xanxus snarls, clearly unhappy with what he’s implying, and sits up, and he hides his grin. “Fine.” Red eyes glare at him from under hair that had proved remarkably soft without product. “Where’s _my_ kit? And my shark?”

“Squalo’s plotting something with Massimo, while Guido lurks and regularly suggests a quickie; Shamal’s doting on Bel for you. I think he’s replaced all his knives with illusions? Or he’s getting really good at healing stab wounds. He’s certainly not asked to be relieved, so he’s probably enjoying having a kit to look after.”

“Tsch. The Mist-trash needs bitched. And I need some fucking clothes. Preferably my fucking uniform -”

“- unfortunately, that got cut off you at some point between the scene I walked in on and you ending up on my cock.” Flames lick at the tips of his omega’s fingers. (He really needed to keep thinking omega, not baby brother, or he was going to end up with an undignified kink.) “I suspect Papa’s going to try and take the Varia from you, but Massi has a plan for that. Are you the Boss, or is Squalo?”

“The shark is, technically. He’d have to be permanently incapable of command for it to be transferred. But I’m his Sky, so everyone assumes, despite the fact I’m wearing the Storm Ring; the Varia doesn’t have a Sky one.”

“Then Guido can step in for now if Papa tries to force the point. He’s currently Squalo’s alpha and the sire of his kit, after all.” Xanxus snarls again, and he presses his Flames on him until his brother goes limp and purrs, instead. “Fede raided your rooms. It may not be your uniform, but the clothes in question are at least Storm resistant.” He lets up the pressure, his lips curving into a smile. “So. Are you going to get dressed and join the plotting, Xan?”

“… I need a shower first. And more cock.” He shakes his head, chuckling at his omega’s demand.

“That is _entirely_ doable, Xan. And I’m never going to object to an invitation to slide my cock into your pussy. I’ve been having no end of issues with my barbs since I mounted you.” His omega shivers and he offers him a hand; Xanxus takes it, and he pulls him up and out of their messy nest before stealing a kiss. “Can I get someone to change the bedding while we’re out being murderous, Xan? Or do you still need the comfort-scent?”

“Change it. Want to be able to cuddle my kit without making him murderous.” He tows Xanxus into his private bathroom and points him at the oversized shower; his omega stumbles into it and turns the hot water in, and he bites his lip to avoid laughing at the clear hesitation to sit on the tiled bench. Xanxus was _very_ much still adjusting to his new anatomy, including the vicious sensitivity that frequent raking with his barbs had bequeathed on his rim. “How the fuck am I supposed to do anything with my ass feeling like _this_ , ’Rico?”

“Time, mostly. And the Pack brought a few gifts that might help; there’s a couple of cushions and a plug for your pretty new pussy that’s supposed to soothe it -”

“Quit calling it my fucking pussy.” He raises an eyebrow at his omega, who grumbles. “It’s still my fucking ass. It’s just multi-fucking-purpose now. And don’t make me think of how your kits are going to get out of where they’re nesting, unless you want it cut off, ’Rico.”

“Shamal’s already started studying how best to facilitate that, Xan.” He allows his lips to curve. “Why don’t you bend over the bench and let me try something to see if it helps with the, uh, soreness.” Xanxus grumbles, but complies, spreading his legs, and his cock goes from half-hard to barbed, and he palms it and bites his lip. Fuck, he really had done a number on his baby brother; that was such a pretty, perfect omega-pussy he’d made. It was going to be impossible to keep his cock out of it.

He shakes his head annoyed that he’d already slipped and called it a pussy again and kneels behind Xan, making his omega twitch, and then leans in and laps at the brutally inflamed rim of his baby brother’s hole. Xanxus squirms, and begs and shoves himself back onto his tongue, and he’s relieved at how much they’re _both_ enjoying him doing this. He works his omega’s hole - hole would have to do if he couldn’t call it his pussy - until Xan’s cursing his name and his omega’s cock is actually showing an interest in the proceedings. (Which was good. It meant he hadn’t broken him the way he’d worried about.) He lifts his head and presses a kiss to the small of his omega’s back, then asks: “Which do you want, Xan? A cock in your ass, or my mouth on your cock and my fingers in your lush, slick hole?”

Xanxus twitches, and he can feel the confusion in his baby brother’s Flames.

“Unlike you and Squalo, Xan, Guido and I have had a very _equal_ partnership. I actually quite like sucking cock.” His omega scoffs. “Providing my partner has enough self-control to avoid trying to knot or rake my mouth, a cock sliding over my tongue is intensely pleasurable.” When Xanxus makes another disbelieving sound, he chuckles, and manhandles his omega into a position where he can suck his cock; he swallows Xan’s lightly barbed cock, concentrating his Flames in his mouth and throat to prevent himself being harmed. (He’ll have to ride his omega into the mattress to drive the point home later; he suspected it would take him doing that to make it clear he wasn’t planning for Xanxus to be entirely submissive to him. And it’s not like his omega could bitch _him_ ; that took an intact alpha.)

His baby brother gasps and rocks into his mouth - he’d have to teach him to be a more considerate partner - and he hums in pleasure, and sinks the fingers of his dominant hand into Xanxus’s slick hole - delighting in its easy stretch - and searching for the engorged entrance to his new anatomy. When he finds it, Xanxus shrieks, bucking into his mouth and he sucks his omega’s cock and works his body with deliberate strokes that have the soft spot swelling and demands spilling from his omega’s mouth. The demands end with a burst of bittersweetness as his baby brother cums and he surges up from his kneeling position, impaling Xanxus in one brutal thrust that has his barbs fully formed before he’s fully seated inside him.

Once he’s properly sheathed, he collapses down onto the bench, taking Xanxus with him, and nuzzles at his omega’s bite mark. “Couldn’t resist, Xan. You feel so good on my cock.” He chuckles when his omega mumbles something. “Hopefully the plug will help. I really do want to watch you reclaim the rest of the pack’s kits -”

“- bastard.” The word’s mostly affectionate, so he doesn’t protest. “Did you _have_ to rake me again?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to avoid raking you, Xan. Given everything, I’d have to be dead to succeed in suppressing my barbs with your hole on offer.” His omega grumbles slightly, clenching on his cock and he presses a kiss to his bite rather than comment on the voluntary muscle movement.

* * *

“Heir Vongola?! This is an unexpected honour -”

“- I doubt you’ll be thinking that when we’re done, Don Falco.” Xanxus steps forward, body language making it clear that he’s here _with_ him, rather than acting purely as a _very_ expensive bodyguard. “I finally chose to take a consort, and my pack-brother’s Mist abased himself before him almost before the transition was complete. Bring me his kit, or I will _take_ him.”

“You can’t do that -”

His smile is shark-like, and Xanxus’s Flames are stoking his. “- Don Falco, you should _always_ read contracts before signing them. When you joined the Alliance, you made your kits my consort’s business; there’s merely been no Vongola consort of sufficient rank for Shamal to appeal to.”

“I’m the boy’s father - he’s _mine_. That’s what the rules say -” his omega’s Flames twist, angrily, and he soothes them, just enough for them both to stay calm.

“His mother transferred the bond to her brother, and unlike Lavina, he has a higher status than you do. And no kit should be Flame Active, Don Falco, so please: tell me why he is.” The man splutters, and Xanxus’s Flames go very, very still. A tiny Storm presence is racing towards them, and his omega crouches, arms opening; the tiny boy - too tiny; Shamal had told them he was four - throws himself into them, and Xanxus wraps his Flames and arms around the kit. His omega stands, gracefully, the little Storm perched on his hip. “I’m still waiting for the explanation as to why he’s Flame Active.”

“M’Active because sorella’s cooking is _really_ weird, Mama.” The words are slurred, and he glares at the Don in front of him; what Xanxus and Shamal had done should only have made the kit trust him, not confuse the boy _that_ much. “She says is full of love, but makes me all dizzy and the pretty fire pops and crackles -” he’s not quite sure _what_ in the kit’s words tips his omega over the edge, but the gunshot is, as far as he’s concerned, entirely justified. (There had been no lie in kit’s Flames, and no regret in Don Falco’s.)

“We’re taking the girl-kit, too, ’Rico. She’s clearly got poison cooking.” He pinches his nose. “Leaving her will get a lot of people killed; those with it tend to have body counts far higher than most of the others in the Varia.”

“Taking her is going to involve killing a fair number, too.” His omega scowls at him, and he smiles. “Give me the kit, Xan. You’ll need both hands free to fetch her. Try not to murder _everyone_ , sì?” Peeling Hayato off Xanxus is tricky, but not impossible, and he wraps him up in his Flames to keep him calm. Once he has the boy, Xanxus bounces on his toes, and then vanishes at _speed_ ; he shakes his head as he hears the gunshots. “How’s your relationship with your sister, kiddo?” What he's really asking if he's going to make arrangements for her to be housed elsewhere, or if she can be added to their nursery with competent supervision.

“S’okay. Love sorella. Don’t love sorella’s cooking, or sorella’s Mama, though.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss on the kit’s nose. “Shamal will be there to help with her cooking, kit, and I think we should probably wait in the car for Xan. He’s having fun, though I suspect he was expecting this to be more of a challenge based on his Flames -” his actual bodyguards settle in around him - the Falco had missed them _entirely_ in their focus on his pretty, deadly omega - following him back to the car, and he tucks Hayato into one of the two-car seats he’d had installed in the limousine before they’d left the Fort.

Once the kit was secure (and asleep; there were Rain Flames woven into the seat to make for peaceful journeys), he leans into his Flames to follow his omega’s rampage; his cock twitches in interest and he debates whether he could risk a quickie here, or if he needed to be good and wait for their return to the Fort. The answer was almost certainly patience, but if Xanxus returned covered in blood, it was going to be _hard_.


	3. Chapter 3

“Enrico Fermi Vongola!” He buries his nose in his omega’s hair and whines, making Xanxus chuckle; the amusement turns into curses though, when their Papa actually forces entry into the suite. (It was supposed to be _his_. His private place to bed and breed his omega and keep his kits safe.)

“Go to the kits, Xan.” They’re not unguarded - Shamal and Squalo are both wrapped around the three in his nursery - but it’s the only thing he can think of that will make Xanxus leave his side right now. “Please? Papa’s not going to do more than yell at me for yesterday’s actions.”

His baby brother grumbles but complies, and he pulls on his robe and opens the bedroom door once Xanxus has slipped into the private office they’ve converted into a temporary nursery. “You were supposed to keep the little brat under control.”

“… and good morning to you, too, Papa. I’m assuming you’re referring to both _my_ omega, and my expedition to retrieve a pair of mistreated kits?” His father growls, and he resists the urge to chuckle. “I know Shamal tried to get you to intervene, but you refused to, so you brought the Falco massacre on yourself. Given Nonna’s stories, the reminder should keep anyone else from abusing their kits, too, at least for a few years.”

His father’s eye twitches and his Flames flicker in clear frustration, but his own are far more robust with Xanxus curled up in his Storm slot. “If your Pack already has kits, then I’ll have to have the nursery wing reopened.” His Flames flare, a non-verbal snarl at the idea; his father retreats, slamming the door behind him before he can tell him that he can go bitch himself with a toilet brush if he thinks he’s getting control of his kits. He relocks the main door into the apartment, sealing it with his Flames, and takes a deep breath; he didn’t want to trip Xanxus or his very volatile baby-Storm into a Rage. Once he’s got himself more or less under control, he ambles in the direction of his improvised nursery.

(He pauses in the doorway to the space for a long moment, using his Flames to make himself less noticeable; the three omegas of his new Pack - Shamal felt too content not to be one - were sprawled on the California-king mattress that he’d had put in the room, each with a kit napping on top of them, and he desperately wanted a moment to appreciate the view.)

“There’s Pack rooms in the castle. Was tempted to drag Dino into it for Xan to enjoy.” Squalo’s words are surprisingly quiet, given the Rain’s reputation. (He’s been surprised by the lack of ear-splitting ‘Voooiii’, to be honest.) “Pony needs some help surviving his father’s bull-shit.” He brushes his Flames against the slim Rain’s gently, and Squalo shivers and buries his nose in the hair of the kit on his chest for a moment.

“That sounds like something I should know about, Squalo. He _should_ be one of my strongest allies, for all he’s Xan’s age.” The story that spills out of his omega’s Rain makes him want to _Rage_ but he shoves it as far down into his Flames as possible; he doesn’t want to upset the kits. “How the _fuck_ was that allowed to happen? Papa had a wife at the time -” She’d certainly not been _his_ Mama, but she revelled in all the privileges that went with being his father's Donna.

Squalo shrugs and presses another kiss to the kit napping on his chest. “Pony’s Family is Allied, not Alliance. Pretty sure he was made for you when you showed no interested in anyone other than Guido, Boss.” He makes a face, and Squalo bites his lip. “He wasn’t supposed to inherit, so it probably seemed like a good idea at the time, and done that young -”

“- murder every medic who thinks it’s reasonable I find.” Shamal’s words are mumbled into the pink hair of his new daughter, and he shakes his head, amused. “Only works properly ten per-cent of the time. Kills more kits than an elective surgery should, too. Better t’wait and ask kit if they want it post-presentation. Then always works.” But then you couldn’t pass a kit off as a natural omega, with all the prestige and desirability that came with the status.

“Does that mean the Pack rooms are ready to move into?” Squalo makes an affirmative sound. “Then we’ll sneak out while Papa’s away from the Fort this afternoon.” He smiles, a sort of bitter, small smile that makes Squalo raise his eyebrow. “Bribe Dino into visiting, Squalo. He and I should talk, and I suspect Shamal wants to check he’s not too badly fucked up.”

“Voooiii. Boss’ll get mean if you split your attention right now.”

“I have an omega, Squalo.” The Rain-Cloud eyes him warily. “I can’t even make myself allow Guido to scent Xan, brat. But Dino is meant to be my peer, so I should probably fill in some of the holes in his education before Papa does something Stupid, like set Reborn on him.”

* * *

“Tsch. The idiots have gotten even _Stupider_ , shark-trash.”

“Voooiii. You’re not helping Boss. You’re mixing your fucking signals.”

“… doesn’t mean they get to flirt with ’Rico.” He chuckles at his omega’s grumpiness. He hadn’t even _noticed_ the attempt to tempt him until Xanxus had shot the interloper in the knee. “S’mine.”

“Come here, brat.” His omega curls up in his lap, burying his face in his neck. “What’s going to make it clear to your pet assassins that I’m out of bounds?” Xanxus mumbles something into his neck, but it’s actually Squalo who draws his attention; the Rain had pulled a book from thin air and was flicking through it. “It’s clearly something that _someone’s_ dealt with, or this entire Wing wouldn’t exist.”

“Voooiii. The Wing exists because this was the heir’s seat before Nono. But yeah, Daniela built her Pack here.” Squalo makes a face. “Fucking Varia moved in because your Nonna liked fucking dangerous men, Enrico. And they liked fucking her, so they stayed and brought her dead mice.” He snorts. “And you can blame her for the most likely solution to the problem, too.” Squalo smirks. “You said you couldn’t even let Guido scent him; up to fighting him and then fucking him in front of everyone? Officers’ bonded mates are off-limits, but we like to see for ourselves it’s a real pair.”

Xanxus nips at him, Flames covering his, possessive and greedy, and his cock twitches. “Does it matter who wins the spar? Xan’s likely to wipe the floor with me.” His omega purrs, amused. “Well, you are. Unless you want to let me bring Guido into the match to even the odds?”

“Would be allowed, Boss.” He did quite like the idea, personally, of everyone seeing his omega fucking _him_ , but he probably should _try_ and beat his baby brother. But it would _ruin_ the pedestal his father had him trapped on if Xan put him down and raked him hard in front of everyone, and that appealed, too.

“And what would everyone think if my pretty omega punted me through a wall and then made me squeal with his barbs?” Xanxus makes a little needy sound, and his knot threatens to form spontaneously. “We can do that later, Xan, even if it isn’t politic.”

“If the Boss likes it, the Boss gets it. Doesn’t matter which way the fight or the fuck goes, it’s just about proving you’re his. In the castle, normal rules of consent apply, plus any attempts to bitch someone damn well better be enthusiastically welcomed or the perpetrator gets skinned.” Xan’s Flames get heavier, and he snorts. “Boss has made it clear that he likes being your omega, so everyone’s going to assume his bitching was consensual unless you want to tell them the whole story.” Left unsaid is that Squalo’s opinion is that he should tell _everyone_ and declare open season on his father.

“Then we’ll show off a little bit. After lunch? I feel the need to cuddle the kits and pamper Xan first.”

“Voooiii. I’ll tell Guido. And chase the perverts out of the infirmary - they’ve been making you a set of armour as a welcome to the Castle present. It’ll make the show last longer.” Squalo slips out of the room, and he presses a kiss to his omega’s forehead.

“Kits, sex or food, Xan?” His omega grumbles softly. “Choose, or I’ll choose for us.”

“Sex. Like the idea of fucking you a bit too much, ’Rico.”

“Then you should be _very_ motivated to punt me through a wall, Xan.” His omega makes a small, amused sound. “I like the idea rather a lot, too. But I also quite like the idea of making you show off your submission to all your pet assassins. Enough that my knot is about to pop. I think we’d both like it to do so in your pretty arse, sì?” Wrath Flames flicker over both of them, and he seals all three doors before their clothes finish disintegrating. He’s gratified to find that in the safety of their nest, Xan was content to go without the damn plug that helped him hide his nature, and he lifts his omega gently and sheathes himself in him. He shudders and nearly cums; his omega’s pussy is the sweetest, hottest thing he’s ever had and he’s in serious danger of developing a premature ejaculation problem. He manages to hold off, by force of will, and when he’s _sure_ he’s not going to pop on the first thrust, he fucks up into his baby brother’s tight, sweet ass with as much force as he can muster. “You’re going to _feel_ how much I adore you with every movement while we’re sparring. You’re going to have to fight the urge to kneel and beg me to use your ass rather than smack me into a wall -”

* * *

His omega is _hot_ in the Varia’s leathers.

His cock is throbbing viciously, and he’s intimately aware of the fat plug in his own ass, forcing his muscles to stretch, and keeping the lube he’d all but poured inside himself in place, and it’s really not helping his composure than in the first twenty minutes of their spar, Xanxus has already thrown him through two walls and knocked Guido out cold. (He’s barely aware of the audience; compared to most of the men that inhabit the Fort, the Varia have incredible self-control. There was something humorous about that.)

He flares his Flames, trying to gauge whether he could use them to force Guido onto his feet again - he didn’t think anyone realised how tightly woven together they were - and catches the faint flicker that indicated his Cloud is playing dead, waiting for an appropriate moment to pounce. (They’d twisted each other’s natures with their juvenile bond and sometimes he wondered if it was why his Papa couldn’t let go of power.) Except that his pretty omega has been hiding a skill; he clearly sees the same flicker and the speed at which Xanxus Flames flicker through the forms required to produce Sky-Ice is phenomenal. (He’d have to get Xanxus to teach him how to use it in combat before he went toe-to-toe with Papa.) He almost drops to his knees, willing to beg his omega not to use it, but Xanxus’s control is exquisite. He’s not even sure the ice restraining Guido is touching _skin_. And it is effective; it absorbs his Cloud’s Flames so completely that for the first time in years, he can’t pull on them as easily as he can on his own.

Without his Cloud’s Flame bolstering his, he’s at an even greater disadvantage, and he goes limp the next time Xanxus throws him, shaping his Flames into something like surrender, and the audience make a sound that he can’t interpret as his baby brother pounces, tiny threads of Storm chasing through the seams of the clothes he’s wearing - and he’s grateful Xanxus refrained from doing _that_ , mid-combat - and he shivers as he’s left exposed. (Not so exposed; Xanxus is between him and their audience.)

He _expects_ Xanxus to yank the plug he’s been wearing since they split up after lunch out of his hole, and then shoves himself in - Guido had told him how easy to bitch his baby-brother’s Rain-Cloud had been, the boy’s rim swollen and sensitive from being repeatedly raked without time to heal, his pussy soft and wet and so close to being fertile - and is therefore startled by the gentle reverence with which he’s touched. With which the fat plug is eased out of his body.

(He’d not been entirely sure he would enjoy this, physically - he’d known he would mentally, spiritually, but it had been painful learning to take an alpha’s cock when he and Guido had played with each other, and Squalo’s state says his baby brother likes it rough - but he’s suddenly unsure of his assumptions.)

Xanxus makes a small, surprised sound when it comes free, and, he assumes, sees the fact that he’s wet and open and _ready_ for his cock. Eager for it. He can feel his muscles twitch, is thoroughly aware of his pulse hammering in his veins. Of how this _looks_.

“You’d have knelt for me if I’d succeeded, wouldn’t you, ’Rico?” He nods, burying his head in his arms, and spreading his legs, trying to invite his omega to fuck him. “Would have spread your legs and you’d have liked it, wouldn’t you?” Fingers tease his rim, and he whines. “Would have let me cloister you and plant kits in your belly to strengthen the Vongola rather than fight for the Rings; would have let me fill you up with kits over and over again, and been genuinely happy about it.” He nods, and the fingers slip inside him, and he makes a small desperate sound that has his omega chuckling, and then there’s the hot, hard bluntness of a cock teasing him.

It plunges in, and he shrieks; he can’t help it. The surprise, the sensation of being taken with flared barbs - he hadn’t even realised Xan’s barbs _could_ still flare - the _awareness_ of being watched are all too much, and he tumbles into an orgasm that only elongates with every stroke of his omega’s cock into his body. His world narrows down to the sensation (it’s never been so overwhelming, letting Guido do this to him), and Xanxus’s smug pleasure at having been able to put him on his knees after all.

His omega collapses on top of him, half an eternity later, and he surfaces slowly, achingly aware of his poor ass (he doesn’t regret it’s abuse for a moment); at some point, the room’s been emptied, and there are only Guido and Squalo - the younger Cloud wore an expression that made it clear how he’d been kept from interrupting - still occupying the protected seating.

“Voooiii. You need more fucking training, the pair of you.” He snorts, and Xanxus rolls off him; his omega sticks two fingers up at his Right Hand. “Not you, Boss. Our shitty alphas. Yeah, you’ve been training fucking hard for the thing-that-shall-not-be-named, but _still_. They should have given you more of a fight than _that_.”

He sticks his hand up. “Not a combat Sky. Seriously. Papa tried. But I do a lot better at the keeping the Family from imploding shit than he does and he _hates_ it.” His Cloud snorts in amusement. “If you want to kick Guido around the training rooms, on the other hand, you’re welcome to.”

“What did I do to get thrown under the bus, ’Rico?”

“You enjoy sparring far more than I do. And you’re the one who’ll have to step into Squalo’s shoes when he’s doing a beached whale impersonation.” Squalo and Guido shudder in unison. “Unless you haven’t finished bitching him yet, Guido, or you managed to abstain while he went through his re-Presentation Heat, he and Xanxus are going to have kits almost simultaneously. And he’s the Varia Boss, not Xanxus, so tag, you’re it.”

His Cloud scowls at him.

“He’s right, trash.” His omega sounds amused. “But some fucker’s tried to teach you to fight like a Cloud and it fucking shows. Whatever the fuck you and ’Rico did to your Flames when you were little means you should be fighting like a fucking Sky; you might even be able to do the territory stealing trick I can’t figure out.” He can almost see his omega's eager, shark-like smile. "When I'm done with you -"

He almost pities his Cloud. _Almost_.


	4. Chapter 4

“His Family fucked up. I’m not sure whether they were trying to induce a fixation, ‘lost’ the surgeon’s instructions or someone assumed it could be reversed if he didn’t take an alpha.” Shamal’s Flames were boiling under his skin, flickering and flaring, and he doesn’t even try to soothe the Mist; he suspects the attempt would be futile. “It’s one of the best pieces of work I’ve seen; the surgeon got _everything_ right, despite how small Cavallone has to have been when it was done. He’s going to be completely indistinguishable from a natural omega to most people, _but_ -”

“He hasn’t had a Heat yet, has he?” Shamal twitches. “His scent is a weird amalgam of kit and omega. You clearly _have_ a plan, Shamal. Or a prescription. One I’m going to be dubious about.”

“He’s definitely not a kit, if that makes you feel any better. And it doesn’t involve _your_ cock.” He raises an eyebrow at his brother’s Mist and fits the pieces he’s been given together.

“You think Xanxus should rake him.”

“Or Squalo.”

“Not you?”

“… I don’t have either a knot _or_ barbs.” The admission makes Shamal’s Flames spark and spit, and he doesn’t push the issue. “But yes. Xanxus would be the best candidate. He’s taken to being an omega _incredibly_ well, and matching Flame types makes bitching easier, so it might help here, too.” He swallows and leans his head back against his chair’s headrest, remembering the packet of information Massimo had brought him (along with a new kit, already installed in his nursery).

“Reborn’s next contract is to train Dino, but he’s not going to be available until the end of the summer.” Shamal gives him a look that makes it clear he thinks that’s a non-sequitur. “Reborn took a turn at training me when I was younger. Everyone thought that with Guido’s Flames as well as my own, I’d be one of the Family’s heavy-combat assets. Take it from me, Shamal: Reborn’s training is not conducive to quickening. And he’ll use the fact the Cavallone thought his only value was to spread his legs against him. But if he’s already caught -”

“Ah. If it makes it easier, he just needs pushing _into_ Heat. I was assuming he’d be sent home to the Cavallone to build his Pack, not incorporated into ours. I don’t think it would be politic to keep him, even if he has got a lovely ass.”

“You do realise there’s no need to be _quite_ so performative, Shamal. I know what you like, and what you like is my brother and the others in his set putting you on your back and raking your greedy little pussy. Hard.” Shamal sticks his tongue out, and he laughs. “You’d get whiny if we had a natural omega in the Pack; they’d tempt your alphas away from servicing _you_.” Shamal pouts at him, turning up his nose theatrically. “Go drag Cavallone into the nursery and let him cuddle the kits for a bit while I talk to Xanxus. I suspect he’ll agree, but I want it to be _his_ choice.”

* * *

He and Guido both end up sprawled in comfortable wing-chairs, in the opposite corners of his bedroom, and he’s definitely stroking his own cock lazily; the scene in front of them was gloriously obscene. Their omegas have the slim Cavallone heir between them, begging for their barbs, arching into every thrust and the blond’s body was finally responding properly; the scent was intense, and it was taking all the self-control he had not to call for an intermission so he could slam his own omega into the wall and seek some relief in his sweet pussy.

He actually rakes his hand - something he hasn’t done since he was newly presented - when Xanxus finally gives in to the blond’s entreaties, rearranging the three of them so that Squalo was on the bottom - the Rain promptly knotting the young Cavallone omega, stretching his pretty, tortured rim - and then slamming back into the blond’s swollen and abused little pussy himself, dragging a high, needy sound from his prey.

“You like this, don’t you, Pony-trash? Now your slutty holes know what they’ve been craving, you’re going to be _insatiable_.” The blond makes a desperate sound, fingernails digging into Xanxus’s shoulders. “Gonna send you home all hot and wet and needy to make your Pack and steal your Family from the senile old man who had you cut.” He licks his hand carefully, healing the tiny wounds. “You’re all horse-mad after all - primed to follow a lead mare that knows exactly which cocks they want in their pretty little cunt - so being omega-lead should work beautifully.”

Xanxus snaps his hips, taking the freshly bloodied omega beneath him with the sort of brutality he’d expected when they’d sparred for the Varia the previous month. Cavallone likes it, though. Likes it a lot. (He can smell the way the blond’s body is responding.) The blond squeals like a mare, high and desperate and hungry as he’s ruthlessly raked and the Heat scent intensifies.

“Enough, Xanxus. He’s tipping over into Heat. Unless you want to see if you can still give him kits, we need to send him home to tempt his Family’s alphas.” His omega growls at him, making him snort. “You wouldn’t get to keep the kits, Xan. They’d be raised with the Cavallone; Dino’s their last blood-line Sky.” His omega hesitates, nuzzling at the blond’s throat, and then rolls off Cavallone, and oh. Oh.

He hadn’t really realised he was so completely besotted with his baby brother, but the fact he has absolutely no desire to take Xanxus’s place between the blond’s thighs made it very, very clear that he was. He’d _much_ rather haul his omega into the shower and fuck him against the wall. Even as he thinks that, Squalo manages to force his own knot to deflate and squirms out from under their bedmate, and he really should want to fuck either of those swollen, slick, _fertile_ holes. Even married alphas responded to a _made_ -omega’s Heat, let alone a natural one’s. It was the one damn excuse for infidelity anyone believed in the Mafia. The one reason that anyone would forgive.

Guido hauls his omega’s Rain off, and Shamal slips into the room clearly intending to get the now feverish omega Sky in his bed back to the Cavallone, and he shakes his head, and tugs Xanxus into his lap. His omega comes willingly, and he tilts his head, begging wordlessly, and is indulged. He tangles one hand in Xan’s hair, holding him close, exchanging teasing, biting kisses and gropes, blindly, with the other hand for the plug sealing up his pretty omega’s pussy. He needed in it, desperately. Xanxus cooperates with him, and he makes a sound of relief that has his omega laughing; the way he clenches around his cock as he sinks down it is _perfect_. “Not doing _that_ again, Xan. It clearly worked, but, fuck. You’re _mine_.”

“Don’t say _never_ , ’Rico.” His omega nips his lips, Flames flaring in his eyes. “Intuition said false.”

“I have no desire to share you, Xan.” His bratty omega nips him; it’s a gentle rebuke and probably an indication he’s still not framed the thought right. “Okay. The only other time I can see sharing you - or rather sharing someone _with_ you - is if we find a natural omega that we have to incorporate into the Pack for some reason. But given there aren’t any in our generation -” Xanxus nuzzles at his throat, clearly more content with how he’d rephrased the thought. “- I’m all yours, greedy boy.”

* * *

[To Build a Pack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28430673) spins off here.

* * *

“What have you been up to, little Ripper Prince?” Xanxus’s words are affectionate, and he chuckles as he settles into one of the nursery’s rocking chairs to watch his omega sprawl on the floor with his oldest kit. “And what do you think of your new little siblings?” He doesn’t hear the Storm’s response; it’s murmured into his omega’s neck. “Silly kit. I trust you with them; if you feel like stabbing them, come and talk to me. But I doubt any of them are going to try and make you their omega, so stop worrying.”

“So where _did_ you find your kit, Xan?” He pitches his voice to be unthreatening and omits the ‘pretty’ that’s been stuck in his head since he first got a proper look at his omega’s elfin Storm.

“Palace in Siberia. Was supposed to be finishing off a Romanov branch for one of the better-connected bratvá, and walked into a massacre; found my kit covered in blood and giggling.” His omega’s tone makes him wonder if someone had suggested he should dispose of the little Prince. (Had Papa ordering him to do _that_ been what made Xan consider his coup?) Xanxus chins the blond gently, avoiding his diadem carefully, and the kit purrs, softly.

He makes a small noise and his omega grimaces, a clear confirmation that his guess was more accurate than he’d hoped it was. “Do you think he might let me have a kit-bond to him, too, Xan? I want him to feel safe - you clearly adore him.”

“Bel?” The blond untucks himself from where he’s curled up next to Xanxus and reaches a hand out in his direction; he takes the invitation and tucks himself around his omega and his kit, blanketing them both with his Flames. (He can actually sort of feel the little Prince through Xanxus, but he wants all of his kits where he can feel them. Wants a _proper_ Pack.)

It feels like it takes forever, but the Storm-kit relaxes, and Xanxus’s Flames coil around his, guiding them into the heart of the raging Storm that shouldn’t even be awake yet. The wound there is still raw, despite his omega’s best efforts, and he makes his own Flames as soothing as possible; the formation of the bond still makes him jump. It was nothing like the ones that had been described to him, but then this was an Active kit, one who had clearly been pushed too far prior to his omega finding him. (He doesn’t blame him for needing to test him before accepting comfort.)

* * *

“So. I found you a wedding present you’ll actually get use out of, ’Rico.”

“Mmm. If it’s a tiger, we’ve already got a set in Mumbai.” Massimo glares at him, and he grins. “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you look like you’ve gone toe-to-toe with my omega’s Rain in the middle of a mood swing? You’ve not been _his_ victim - he’s been chasing Guido around - so it’s the next most obvious choice.”

“It wasn’t Squalo, ’Rico. I found the Rain you were looking for. Found out why he ran, too; kit’s adorable and is going to follow Squalo around like a little duckling.”

He facepalms. It’s the only reasonable response. (The Varia’s no fucks given attitude is rubbing off on his half-brothers; he knows _exactly_ where this is going.)

“Massimo, did he come willingly?” His brother’s non-answer has him actually worried. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap his kit to make him come back to Italy? He’s the head of an imperial sword lineage!”

“You wound me, ’Rico.” He raises an eyebrow, and Massimo huffs. “I walked in on an attempt to - well I’m still not sure what it was an attempt to do; kill his partner and his kit or take them both hostage to make your Rain do a boryokudan’s bidding. Eiko’s downstairs in the infirmary with Shamal and Lussuria trying to put her back together properly; I talked them into coming _Home_. You can’t take control without more Guardians than just Guido, ’Rico.”

“Have Xan; some of the Varia would be willing to stand -” his brother flares his Flames, and he bites his tongue. Massimo was right; appointees weren’t _really_ a solution. And he probably needed to interrogate his desire to just set the Varia on the wider Underworld, but that could wait for later.

“- say ‘thank you, Massimo, I’ll go and negotiate with my Rain for him to stay put and be mine, you go and cuddle the kits’ and get your head out of your ass, ’Rico. I know you and Guido were traumatised, but that’s no fucking excuse for chasing a perfect match off.”

“Thank you Massimo. Why don’t you go and cuddle the kits?” He repeats _most_ of the words, obediently, and his brother laughs. “Where _is_ Tsuyoshi?”

“With his kit in your office.” Massimo hesitates. “It’s really clear he’s one of Ugetsu’s get when you see him dressed casually and cooing at his kit, ’Rico. Given Basil, Hayato and Xanxus -”

“I know. I’ve sent Fede to talk to Aria and asked Xanxus to work out which of the Mists is best placed to commit a little larceny. There’s clearly _something_ going on.” He chews on his lip. “Did anything set your intuition off when you were digging through Sawada’s files?”

“Only that he’s got a wife in Japan, but he hasn’t taken leave for _years_ \- I made sure to send her a death certificate and set up a pension to be paid into the account of her choice; there’s a compulsion on the papers to make sure she actually files them. It’s probably more than she was getting from the idiot.” He agrees. “Now shoo. I have kits to cuddle; my Guardians are still negotiating over how we’ll get some of our own.”

He goes. (He won’t be surprised if his brother decides _he_ wants to carry his own kits; Massimo’s Flames were barely on a par with their bisnonno’s, and he always had been more of a home-body than anything else. He could see him cloistered and comfortable within their Pack space in a way he couldn’t see Xanxus being.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sword, Sword ... Scabbard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595211) entertwines with the first half of this chapter.

“Voooiii! Fight me -” his omega buries his head in his chest.

“I think Squalo just met my new Rain -” Xanxus makes a curious sound. He makes a face; he’s trying to be honest with Xan, especially about the ways he’s been hiding things from his father “- okay. So it’s complicated. You felt how Guido protects me, even from bonding? Even when we _know_ that it’s the best solution?”

His omega pushes up onto his elbows and looks at him with red-orange eyes. “Thought there was something weird going on.” Xan’s Flames flicker. “The shits who took you tried to force bonds, didn’t they?” He nods, and his omega rolls them over and coaxes him into burying his head in his throat in a parody of every time he’s soothed Xan over the last two and a bit months.

“Papa thought an Asari Rain might be able to ‘cut’ his way through Guido’s Flames and into my Sky. If he was sufficiently motivated.” Xanxus snarls, and he mimics a purr, the soft sweet sound an omega used to soothe their alpha (he wishes it came more naturally). “We pretended that we were doing what he wanted. For almost two years, and then something gave away that it was a pretence. But rather than confront us … I think he used Giotto’s knack for the first and only time he ever has in order to make the perfect hostage so Tsuyoshi would do what he wanted him to do. He miscalculated, though. He demanded I search for them sometimes, but I just make use of the time in other ways.” He nuzzles at his omega’s throat. “Am actually a bit annoyed Massimo found them. They were so well-hidden.”

“He felt so pleased with himself, ’Rico …” he whines; he wants to punish Massimo for hauling Tsuyoshi out of hiding, “… why am I being the reasonable one?”

“Kit involved. Instincts are fun.” Xan ruffles his hair, and he squirms. “You want the Pack kits where you can chin them and use them as blankets rather than hidden away.” He makes a face, not wanting to think about the implications of the fact his intuition snarled at him when he considered hidden kits. “Fuck me, Xan. I need to stop thinking for a bit.” His omega doesn’t oblige, even though he spreads his legs and shapes his Flames in a way that he’s spent hours between his omega’s thighs figuring out. “Please, Xan.”

“My Rain’s a menace, ’Rico. Is your Rain going to survive him?”

“He will.” Xanxus makes a small, abortive thrust and he goes sweet and soft and easy beneath his omega. “I think you probably know him and his partner better as Autumn Rain and Swallow Blossom, Xan.”

“Ah. Now I understand.” His omega chuckles. “If Guido hadn’t already pushed him over the edge, he’d be bitched and pregnant by lunchtime, wouldn’t he?” He nods, and Xanxus rewards him for his response with his cock, the barbs flared and sharp, and he squeals high and desperate as his mind goes thoroughly and utterly blank in favour of pleasure-pain.

* * *

“How long did you spend edging transitioning?” Shamal’s voice is clinically curious, and he glares at his brother’s Mist. “Your omega - our _Pack_ Heart is worried about you, Boss. Worried that he’s going to screw everything up -”

“Since I Presented.” Mist Flames prod at him, and he fights the urge to immolate the man. “We always back off for a few months if I start slickening, Shamal. That’s what I was always told was the danger point.”

“It isn’t.” He sits up, alarmed, and Shamal pulls a face. “The danger point is earlier than that. Especially over the long term, and when you’re pair-bonded. If I have to guess, the only reason you succeeded in dancing the edge is that the you and Guido fucking each other is basically self-cest. There’s no difference to your Flames, no way for one set to dominate the other - no final ‘submission’ to get you over the step. But Xanxus is a much, much stronger Sky than you are; it is possible that he could shove you over the threshold despite his new status.”

“Noted. Is there a way to prevent it -”

“- other than cutting out the vestigial organs? Not that I’m aware of. I _think_ Xanxus is penetratively infertile while he’s carrying - at least that’s what the samples he let me take suggest, and that’s what happens with female Alphas when they’re kit heavy - which is why I thought he and Squalo were the best candidates to get the Cavallone kit into Heat. Less messy complications, more fun for them; if he’d had a clearly Vongola kit, given what he was made for, your father might actually have felt moved to do something about them reneging on the bargain I assume they made.”

He makes a face.

“Which bit has you scowling?”

“All of it. Well, except for the bit about Xan and Squalo fucking the Cavallone kit. That was hotter than I suspected it would be.” Shamal snorts.

“I saw. You were _very_ enthusiastic in your use of Xanxus’s reproductive ‘hole’ afterwards; I was amazed he didn’t bleed.”

“… if he’s not listening, call it his pussy, Shamal. It’s the accepted word for it.” Shamal pulls a face. “It’s a particularly lovely one, Shamal. Snug and tight and slick; perfect for my cock.”

“I want to figure out _clinical_ terminology for it all. And figure out how to get it out at least to the relevant surgical specialists, so the betas know what they’re looking at is a normal variation, rather than assuming it’s an anomaly.” He doesn’t quite follow until he does. “Using pussy for a reproduction-capable-hole and ass for one that isn’t doesn’t really work, does it, especially if a natural or near-natural omega needs treatment, right?”

Shamal’s scent thickens slightly, and he twitches as he recognises what he’s smelling. “You said you couldn’t help fuck the Cavallone kit into Heat. There’s a reason you’re interested in the terminology -”

“I was desperate. Desperate enough to wake my Flames at 22, desperate enough to do anything that might let me get my kit back.” Shamal’s lips curve, his scent suddenly very, very clear. “I didn’t need bitching, ’Rico, the machismo was performative; I hadn’t realised I had done such a good job of it until you snapped at me before we fixed the Cavallone kit.” He eyes the Mist in disbelief. What Shamal was alluding to was _impossible_. An _adult_ beta becoming a near-natural omega shouldn’t work; they didn’t have the glands, the vestigial organs - didn’t have the malleability. “It makes experimenting with and updating the texts in order to account for my new physiology a _personal_ priority.”

“Shamal, have you let on to Fede about what you are? There are reasons why stronger omegas are either cloistered or have Packs.” The Mist pulls his own face. “They’re valid reasons. Old reasons, Shamal; made-omegas, especially ones who are more alpha than not, can manage on their own, but the closer you get to passing for natural, the stronger the Flames and the pheromones get.”

“So? I can control my pheromones - you didn’t realise mine were so strong until I showed you. And I have a Pack. I’m omega to your youngest brother, ’Rico, even if he doesn’t realise what I am yet, his instincts certainly do; he keeps me close, he keeps me safe, and I have no intention of going anywhere near anyone other than our Pack and its kits for the foreseeable future. Hayato and I are as safe as we can be, Don Enrico Fermi di Vongola. However, that safety relies on you, so can I get you into my new infirmary to figure out how far gone you are?”

“Gone -?”

“Transitioning, unless you have an admission to make about how bitching Xanxus went?” Shamal looks at him like he expects the answer to be ‘yes’.

(He’s not one hundred percent sure what the answer is. Bitching his baby-brother is a _very_ hazy memory.)

* * *

* * *

“There are four breathing patterns, Bianchi. One of them _will_ work for you.” Officially he was doing his paperwork, but the live audio-visual feed from the firing range was far too interesting for him to ignore. “We’ll keep working through them all in turn until one ‘clicks’ -”

“But - I don’t understand why?”

“Kit, your poison-cooking is a fear response. If you have a weapon to draw on _first_ we might be able to get you into a position where you don’t need to that pretty bracelet to help you maintain control.” He thought that their sole girl-kit was doing remarkably well with handling her odd Flame, personally; he’d have let her depend on the bracelet for a little longer, but his omega obviously had a reason to drag her onto the firing range and put a .22 pistol that looked like a baby sister to the ones he used in her hands. “Despite what everyone thinks, poison cooking isn’t a Storm Flame manifestation. It’s its own Flame. The property - the key idea - is somewhere between Corrosion and Fermentation and experience says it will eat through the bracelet at some point.”

“I can’t -”

“You can, kit. I’ve seen how you look at your baby brother; you adore him. His body’s sensitised to your Flame, now.” Bianchi’s chin comes up. “We _think_ he might present as an omega, Bianchi. You don’t want to risk that, do you?”

“No. No, I don’t.” Her voice wobbles. “I should go away. Far, far away -”

“I thought you had more Will than that, kit. I thought you were _Quality_. You’re Active, by your own efforts, at _seven_. Do you know what the average age of non-trauma-induced-Activation is?” He does; he’d looked it up when he was old enough to access the data.

“Papa said that Hayato was stronger -”

“Hayato had a trauma-Activation, sweetheart. Not because of you, but the way your Papa tried to rip out his Mama’s kit-bond to him; trauma-Activations aren’t the same. And they mess up Flames and eat into your reserves. He may be stronger than you kit, but if he is, it’s from whichever dormant bloodline he and Shamal share. Not because he Activated earlier.” Xanxus leans over and chins the kit he’s teaching, gently. “And the average age is 11¼. Presentation is 14¼.”

… that was more precise than he remembered. That sounded like either he’d missed his father ordering more research, or that Xanxus had found some additional information in someone else’s archives.

“I Activated at your age, kit.” He blinks. That meant there had to have been at _least_ a year between Xanxus Activating and his Mama’s choice to bargain with the Vongola. “We’re in the youngest five percent of Activations, kit, and it means we have a will of _steel_. So show it to me, Bianchi di Vongola.” He’d call it sheer bloody-mindedness, personally. And he clearly needed to pin his omega down and find out the technical detail he’d been hinting at.

Bianchi’s Flames flicker, softly, and then their eldest kit breathes, and fires off the clip she’d put in just before they’d started talking. Each shot lands perfectly, leaving the lifesaver glued to the targets untouched.

“Good girl.” Xanxus chins their kit again and swaps the clip for her. “Now do it again. I need to know that you’re going to land _every_ shot you fire before I sign off on you carrying full time.”

* * *

“How do you want to do this, Xan?” His omega gives him a grumpy look that makes it clear he _doesn’t_ want to do ‘it’ at all. They’d both done a fantastic job of evading their Papa’s demands for the last ten months - he suspected that his response to the man’s attempt to upbraid him for the Falco massacre had something to do with _that_ \- but now his omega had given him two little Sky-natured kits (one of whom he suspected _might_ be a natural omega; there was no known way to tell this early, but his intuition twisted and whined when he considered it) they really did need to present them. If nothing else, he wanted them baptised and named and _legal_ , and if they jumped through those hoops, Don Vongola would find out within _hours_. Better to be the ones controlling the information. “Could tweak his nose and ask Cavallone to host; he probably should be Emiliano’s Padrino, anyway, given the way my intuition’s shouting.”

His omega sighs and puts the kit in question back in the bassinet, and then leans back into the mountain of pillows that was his current nest. “He’s likely to pop mid-ceremony, ’Rico.”

“Then, his Alphas would be _highly_ motivated to keep everything calm and running smoothly.” His lips twitch. “Dino’s Alyessa is even more vicious than the two assassins he took Home with him when her fixations are involved; imagine her opinion of Don Vongola risking her omega’s kits -”

“She’s vicious because she’s semi-feral, ’Rico.” His omega picks up their younger kit and helps him latch on, making Xanxus hiss. “You asked where I’d put what I was telling Bianchi together from; Squalo didn’t think it was politic for me to engage in the normal introduction for a Varia Officer.”

He makes a go on gesture, and Xanxus pulls a face.

“So you know what the normal introduction is, right?”

“I know there are at least half-dozen impossible murders on the list. A Don or Donna, a government minister with a full Carabinieri guard … I can’t remember what the others are.”

“It’s a Sky, not a Don. It shows that we’re Quality; killing a Sky and ensuring they stay dead is _hard_.” His omega croons softly at the kit currently nursing before continuing. “It’s just that most Skys end up as Dons, albeit accidentally if they’re not born to it.” Xanxus pulls a face. “Sawada could have counted, but I’d already used the other route Squalo had found. I don’t think half of the Families I waltzed through the archives of have found my business card yet; the Bertesca are the only ones who’ve redeemed it, so far.”

“I would have thought theft was a little beneath the Varia?”

“It’s not _about_ theft. It’s about knowledge. Their archives just contained what I needed to prove I’d guessed right.” He puts the pieces together. “I wrote the equivalent of a PhD in six months.” His omega sounds smug, and it’s an entirely justifiable smugness if he’s right about what he’s put together.

“ _You’re_ the source of what you were talking about with Bianchi.” He has the _best_ omega.

“I am.” The kit suckling lets go with a sleepy sound, and Xanxus tucks them back into the bassinet. “I’m also why Romario is tormenting the old Cavallone Don. They’ve been systematically Sealing the Family’s kits; it’s shitty, but it produced a _lot_ of data. Combined with what I took from the Estraneo - who need massacring, ’Rico, even if they are Daemon’s kin - and I figured some things out. There’s still data to be waded through -”

“- I suspect Romario would be tormenting him anyway. He’s besotted with his omega, Xanxus. He really adores Dino. If he’d stayed -” he shakes his head, that was in the past, “- but he didn’t. Couldn’t.” He smiles. “Gonna let me read your dissertations, brat?”

“Eventually.” Xanxus slides the shield over their kits’ bassinets. “Shamal said that you weren’t supposed to rake _me_. He said nothing about you riding my cock -”

“Decision about their Christening first, Xan.” His omega whines. “No, not until I know which way you want to jump.”

“If Cavallone’s willing to play host, it’s the solution that makes my intuition itch least.” He rewards his omega by tugging him over his body and kissing him like he’s desperate - which he is; the fortnight of abstinence had been hell on him until he realised what Shamal hadn’t said - and Xanxus quickly gets with the picture.

* * *

“You don’t even understand our sin, Enrico Fermi di Vongola.” He shuts his eyes and curses his father out in every language he knows. He’d _had_ to invite him, but he’d hoped he would decide to be discreet. “There’s a reason I waited to have you baptised. I couldn’t renounce it for you -”

“- Papa, for the love of God, _shut up_.”

“You _dare_.”

“I _dare_.” He has his arms full of his older kit and no one he dares to pass him to. He hates the idea of using his kit as a shield, but he can see the avariciousness in his father’s eyes. “And I understand our sin, Papa. Or I understand your sins, at least.” Xanxus’s hands are occupied with their younger one. Cavallone’s Flames are flickering, and he recognises that shift from watching Xanxus give birth. “You thought I wouldn’t find out _every_ little secret that you’ve been hiding?” He _almost_ shoves his kit into the priest’s arms, but something makes him hesitate even as he recognises the way his father is shaping his Flames.

The shots that ring out - his intuition sings, ‘safe, safe, necessary’ - are familiar; he’s spent months watching as his omega teaches their older kit to shoot the weapon he’d personalised for her. The shot aches and burns in a brutally familiar way and he drops, curling around Guiliano, cursing his damn intuition as the Ring on his finger catches _fire_.

“… you aren’t who we were expecting. Nor was this _when_ we expected the one we expected.” The speaker looks _just_ like an older version of his omega. His eyes flick right, and he realises where he is; he recognises it from his Nonna’s diaries. “You changed something.” Ricardo’s voice sounds more curious than accusatory. “We thought he was going to hold out for another decade.”

“It’s a long story.” He checks his kit, and Guiliano yawns at him, making him coo. “And I know that we technically _have_ a very long time in this space, but I also know it’s compressed. And I don’t want my Donna to panic; I don’t think Xanxus knows about this and I don’t think he knows how to handle panic, at all.”

“Xanxus is your _Donna_?!” His omega’s twin looks startled. “He was supposed to -” he raises an eyebrow, curious; there was clearly something going on, and he wondered if it was related to the fact that he had four of the seven primary lines of the Alliance in his nursery, “- never mind. No, he wouldn’t deal with panic well. Especially if he’s aware of your newest set of sparks, Enrico Fermi … Giotto’s away, doing something, so I’ll have to do the honours; your Flames, hours, whatever the bullshit Giotto normally says, are ours, etc. Try not to cause the apocalypse, yahdiyahdiyah. Look after the kits, keep the Family safe, have lots of filthy sex -”

\- he sits up with a gasp, Guiliano still cradled in his arms and the graze _throbbing_. (Someone had cheated. That shouldn’t have been enough to trigger that. But the Ring on his finger was undeniably awake and Active it a way that it hadn’t been before.) “’Rico?”

“Family bullshit. I’ll lend you the relevant journal later.” He holds out his arm to Bianchi, and she throws herself into him, burying her face in his neck. “Shhh. You did good kit. We’ll explain why when we’ve got you safe and secure and warm, okay?” She nods, and he looks up at the priest: “Can we get my sons’ baptisms finished, father? I think there’s another set of kits on the way that you might want to baptise, and I suspect I should want a Mass said for my Papa.” He pauses. “I don’t, but the form is important, and I’d rather he didn’t haunt me, so once we’re done, father …?”

“Very well.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Vongola Pack: Inverted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481865) by [Night-Mare (Aoife)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare)




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